Odalisque

Odalisque (pronounced ohd-l-isk)

(1) A female slave or concubine in a harem, especially one attached to the Ottoman seraglio.

(2) Any of a number of representations of such a woman or of a similar subject, as by Ingres, Matisse et al (initial capital letter).

(3) In informal use, (1) a desirable or sexually attractive woman and (2) in painting, a reclining female figure in some state of undress (contested).

1680s: From the 1660s French odalique (the intrusive -s- perhaps from -esque), from the Ottoman Turkish اوطه‌لق‎ (ōdalik) (maid-servant (sometimes translated as concubine)), the construct being اوده‎ (oda or ōdah) (room in a harem (literally “chamber, hall”) + lιk (the noun suffix of appurtenance).  In French, the suffix was sometimes confused with Greek -isk(os) (of the nature of, belonging to), hence the alternative spelling odalisk where was still circulating well into the twentieth century.  The spread of the Ottoman Empire from Asia to Europe meant useful or intriguing words from Ottoman Turkish entered other languages.  Some use the French or English forms but other variations included the Catalan odalisca, the Dutch odalisk, the German Odaliske, the Hungarian odaliszk, the Icelandic ódalíska, the Italian odalisca, the Portuguese odalisca, the Russian одали́ска (odalíska), the Serbo-Croatian одалиска (odaliska) and the Spanish odalisca.  Odalisque is a noun; the noun plural is odalisques)

An odalisque and the quality of odalisque: Odalisque à la culotte rouge (Odalisque in red trousers) (1921), oil on canvas by Henri Matisse (1869-1954), Musée de l'Orangerie, Paris, France (left) and Lindsay Lohan (2008) in the same vein (right).

Matisse was one of many painters drawn to the exoticism of the orient and painted a series of “Odalisque works”.  There was a time when what white male artists did defined what was art but in recent decades, the depictions by Western artists of aspects of culture east and south of Suez have become controversial, the popular word “problematic” often heard.  Even as historical artefacts, it’s difficult now not to be aware of the complicated legacy such imagery evokes, the Western construct of “Orientalism”, although born of a time when such places were far removed from the industrial society of the post-Enlightenment West, jarring when considered using the twenty-first century standards of representing race and gender.  The objectification by white male artists of women (oriental or not), of course had a long history but it adds another layer when those depicted are the prisoners of a harem, a commodity maintained at the pleasure of a man and discarded at whim.  Did Matisee and the others reveal their colonial attitudes by focusing only on the female body as something which existed aesthetically to please men while ignoring the inherent violence beneath the surface?  There have always been those who argue the artist has the right not to be troubled by (or even know about) such things and the l'art pour l'art (art for art's sake) school will always have a following but the recent deconstructions of patriarchal and colonial structures of power do mean that while such works can still be enjoyed, to admit such an indulgence is becoming harder to sustain.

Odalisque au pantalon rouge (Odalisque in Red Pants) (circa 1925), oil on canvas by Henri Matisse, Fundación Museos Nacionales, Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Caracas, Caracas, Venezuela.  The real one is on the left, the forgery on the right.

As commodity however, Matisses remain desirable.  Sometime between 1999-2002, his Odalisque au pantalon rouge (Odalisque in Red Pants) was stolen from the Venezuelan national gallery in Carracus and replaced with a forgery.  The crime remained un-noticed until 2003 and the work was recovered some fourteen years later, the circumstances of the disappearance remaining as murky as Venezuela’s politics but the scandal did attract much attention especially given it was the only Matisse hung in any of the nation’s museums and the only of his Odalisques on display anywhere in Latin America.  After being recovered in 2012 in Miami by the US Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), the real and the fake were (side-by-side) exhibited as a kind of installation, accompanied by collateral displays which documented the technical differences between the two, the security protocols by which cultural institutions determined patrimony and the systems maintained to monitor any theft of patrimony, according to the regulations of each country and those of the International Council of Museums (ICOM).

US and Mexican nationals were convicted on charges of attempting to sell the stolen Odalisque but most Venezuelans appeared to draw the weary conclusion that official corruption was involved.  It was only when in 2002 the museum received a message telling them the painting was being offered for sale that a check was made and it was found the one on the gallery’s walls not just a fake but a poorly executed one.  Nevertheless, it had hung there for at least two years, an embarrassing photograph from 2000 emerging which showed then President Hugo Chávez (1954–2013; Venezuelan president 1999-2013 (except during a few local difficulties in 2002)) standing in the museum with the fake Matisse behind him.  An investigation began but, as often happens in Venezuela, it proved inconclusive although it did reveal word of the painting being on the market had been received as early as 2000 but the matter, for whatever reason, wasn’t pursued.  When the FBI made their arrests, the suspects told them the painting had been stolen and replaced by museum employees, something which elicited little surprise in Carracus and nor was anyone much shocked when an audit revealed several other pieces were missing, none of which have been recovered.  Under Chavez, Western art was not regarded as anything of importance and, given the country’s problems in the years since, it’s likely that if ever another audit is performed, a few more things might be found to be missing.

An odalisque and the quality of odalisque: Odalisque (circa 1880), oil on canvas by Jean-Joseph Benjamin-Constant (1845–1902)  Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City (left) and Lindsay Lohan in the same vein, Vanity Fair photo-shoot, 2010 (right).